


Cloud Waves & Whitecap Horses

by CarpeNox



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Angst Like The Tides, Anngst-Freeform, Apparently I can't dialogue, At Least Percy Can't Drown, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, Meh, No beta- We Die Like Illiterates, Percy Jackson is a Mess, Percy is Skull, So I killed off Annabeth...sorry, That I am really not equipt to handle, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, We're Still At High-Tide, Which Character Do I Even Include?, or can he?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:48:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27089638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeNox/pseuds/CarpeNox
Summary: At sixteen, Percy Jackson wins a war and loses the person he once anchored his soul to. Then it turns out he's evolved in terms of impossible demigods powers because he now has fire magic as well as water powers to deal with, so he decides to make a job of it and take to the air as well, slowly but surely. His career choice has nothing to do with the adrenaline rush. It's a long-term strategy. Honestly.
Comments: 79
Kudos: 188
Collections: A Collection of Beloved Inserts, Identity Crisis





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wouldn't leave me be. So. Fair warning, I kill off Annabeth. I don't hate her, I just couldn't fit her in. I think this chapter is is sad, but that might just be my sleep deprived self.
> 
> ALSO, If you are of a disposition that would be negatively affected by written anguish, please use yor descretion and don't read. This probably isn't necessary, but I wouldn't want anyone compromising their emotional well-being over my crappy scrap of writing. You are worth more tha that.
> 
> Nothing you recognise is mine.
> 
> So. I'd say enjoy but...

My world ended on a bright summer's day in Athens, under the shade of a prophecy while battling alongside six of the most important people in my life. 

For the first two minutes, it was going well; we weren’t being completely smacked around by the small army of millennia old, thirty-foot tall Greek baddies. Then the element of surprise was turned into the compound of doomed-to-die-trying-to-win; Frank was out of arrows, Hazel got knocked off Arion at high speed and I couldn’t access the water that was _right there_ , like it was being blocked off from me somehow. My busted nose burned, I was dizzy from being slapped into a wall and Annabeth was losing ground way too fast, which was probably something to do with the cut behind her knee that had her leg worryingly slicked with red. 

And the giants? No matter how well we cut them down, they were getting back up faster and faster. They were _healing._

It all went down from then. Not like a gently hill-slope either, where a pebble rolls and you end up with an avalanche further down the line. No, this was like the fall to Tartarus; it was like a meteor descending, a burning hot calamity dragged closer, irresistibly, the Earth itself. 

A bead of blood rolled off my chin and hit the soil with a _hiss_. 

The blood of Olympus watered the earth. 

The Acropolis groaned and the Earth Mother **woke**. 

~~~∞Ω∞~~~ 

The sky opened up and the gods descended and together we smote our opponents thoroughly. For a moment, I understood how battles became legends. Gods and demigods, united against a shared enemy. Jason was bonding with Zeus; Piper was doing all the heavy lifting while Aphrodite distracted their opponent with doves and rose petals to the face and provided verbal encouragement; Ares was having the time of his life with Frank-the-African-elephant; Leo basically being their personal aerial hostile armoury aboard the Argo II while Hephaestus tried to keep the ship in the sky; Hazel was on Arion, fading in and out of sight with her shroud of Mist and decimating opponents at break-neck speeds with Hecate in her wake; Annabeth was a warrior princess, all calculated strikes and graceful lethality with Athena backing her up. I was fighting with my dad, who was wearing his standard Hawaiian prints en lieu of actual armour, but he morphed his trident into a firehose with a horse-shaped blast that took out the twin giants we were facing, so really, the man earned his neon flowers. 

Then...we were on Olympus, Leo was trying to hide that he had a stupid, probably self-sacrificial plan on the back burner (like knows like after all, but there’s no way in Hades that I was going to let one of mine die, but it’s easier to watch someone who thinks they're invisible). The gods were arguing, both with us and themselves. 

I turned to Annabeth, a grin on my face. 

Ice-water fell rushed down my spine. 

She was swaying and white as death. Annabeth _never_ sways or fidgets and there was a crimson pool spreading at her delicate feet. 

“Wise Girl?” I called out lowly, she lurched towards me and tipped over. I caught her and lowered us both to the golden floor before I even registered moving. Her grey eyes were unfocused in a way I hadn’t seen since she was poisoned at the Battle of New York... “ANNABETH!” Her skin was unsettlingly cool and clammy, her sudden pallor made the bags under her eyes stark in contrast. I brushed the flyaway hairs worked loose of her braid out of her face. Her eyes roamed aimlessly, “Percy...?” her voice was so small. 

The sound died down around us and suddenly we were surrounded by comrades and deities, “Lord Apollo!” Thank the gods for Jason, “Ok, I want a two-metre space all the way around them, give the god some room to work.” 

I looked at the Greek God of Healing, he had tied a temporary tourniquet above Annabeth’s knee but was frowning heavily as he held a golden glowing palm over the wound. He opened his eyes and looked over to Athena, “Poison” he said. “From the giant’s blade.” A grim silence settled over the Olympians. He reached up and the tourniquet disappeared in a shower of glittering yellow sparks. The demigods cried out but were swiftly silenced by a flare of light from Apollo. 

I looked at the Greek God of Healing, “What are you doing?! Help her!” I grabbed her leg and futilely tried to hold it closed with my bare hand. The feel of her warm, slick blood was sickening. For a single, desperate moment, I thought about trying to use that power I’d discovered in Tartarus and just call her blood back myself (grey eyes - wary-hesitant- _afraidafraidafraid_ ofme _-_ _WhatAreYou_ _-...Percy? -_ Stopped me _)._ Hands, warm and calloused from bows and string instruments and chariot reins, gently, but firmly, prised mine off and relocated to Annabeth’s (growing colder, sweating, a delirious glaze over her eyes, the grimace twisting her beautiful face easing as the yellow sparks glittered around her as if in a breeze, flaring and sinking into her skin) shoulder. I pulled her closer to me. My hands were shaking. 

“I can't heal a mortal of giant’s poison.” 

My head snapped up, a snarl twisting my lips, creeping dread in my spine and impotent _rage_ burning in my blood, “ _Heal her_ ! Do _something_!” I curled myself tighter around her, like I could hide her away and keeps her safe (like I wouldn’t, wasn’t failing). “She needs ambrosia! Nectar!” 

“Perseus.” I looked at my father, graver than I’d ever witnessed, “It won’t help. I'm sorry.” 

A tidal wave of fury crashed through me; I hate hollow words. They knew something, the gods, looking away, avoiding eye contact, but they were guilty, what did they know?! Why can’t SOMEONE _JUST_ \- “ **_TELL ME._ **” 

Of all the gods and goddesses of Olympus, it was Ares that took off his sunglasses, looked me in the eye with his burning red pits and bluntly, almost callously, gave me the answer, “Look, Ambrosia or nectar would only be enough to keep the girl _just as she is right now_ . It would trap her with the pain she’s in now and it would steadily get more and more agonizing as she started to burn alive from your pathetic mortal bodies going into overload from too much god-food. The best thing you can is allow your warrior to die honourably _now_ and not tarnish her by forcing a couple of extra days in agony and infirmity, which you damn well _know_. That way is to inflict torture and to dishonour her. This is mercy.” 

My eyes burned, but I nodded at his harsh, soldier’s consolidation. Few know death and honour better than the God of War. I respected that, even if I hated his guts. 

I looked down at my girlfriend (my Wise Girl, my partner in all things), at her sun-kissed skin with a sickly, grey taint, at the shape of her nose, the sandy blond curls of her hair, the thin curve of her lips, chapped from stressed chewing, the slant of her too hollow cheeks and the dark shadows there over her slightly sunken eyes. I wanted her to wake up, to look at me with those steely cloud-grey eyes that were tired but still showed the razor edge of her lightning-quick mind and brightened with an inner light when she looked at me, for her to grin at me with a flash of teeth. 

~~**_I could see her dying._** ****  
~~

It was too soon _(she was only seventeen)_ . So many times, we’d almost died but survived against all odds (demigods as a rule of thumb burn bright and fast, but I’d grown a tentative ember of hope deep in my heart that maybe we would make it, escape the tragedy that dogged the steps of heroes and get to _live_ ), now we’re being brutally ripped apart, when between Hera’s meddling and the Mark of Athena we had finally been reunited for moments after _so long_ ... only to fall into Tartarus almost immediately. We hadn’t had enough time ( _there was the whole word to see yet_ ). 

I wanted to take her on every romantic, cliché date I could think of -make her huff at me with a grin tugging at the lips- and afterwards go out into the open air, under the stars, to revel in being together and free. I wanted to go to college in New Rome with her, where she’d nag me about homework and I’d beg her for tutoring with a smile on my face and a kiss to her lips... I wanted to kiss her forever, just like we had not even an hour earlier, to vow an end to the feud between our parents. At one of the worse times in the Pit, in the light of my blade, I held her close, looked deep into her eyes and asked her _‘If we make it out of here... will you marry me?_ ’ to which she whispered, _‘Yes’_ . I didn’t even have a ring to give her. We could have gotten _married_. We could have grown old together. 

But now we can’t. 

All I can do is make it hurt less for her. 

I looked down at the love of my life, and gently tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. 

My warrior princess. 

I looked at Annabeth Chase, and kissed her one last time. 

I looked at the Greek God of Healing and asked him to send her to sleep. 

He told me he already was. 

~~~∞Ω∞~~~ 

Piper was in shock. Annabeth was strong, smart and experienced, Piper had respected and admired her since they first met at the Grand Canyon... even if it that same fierce intelligence had, at the time, really unnerved her, over the course of their limited interaction she had gotten the feeling they would work well together, almost as if, while markedly different, they were similar enough on some base level to operate on a similar frequency. Vague sense of kinship aside...Annabeth was a warrior unstoppable in the face of her goals, but she was dying of a wound beyond even divine intervention to heal. 

No, godly powers couldn’t save her... but maybe a bit of medicine? “The Physician’s Cure! I have it here! We can give it to her and-” her mother’s expression stopped her. 

“No darling, you misunderstand. As goddess, if I was poisoned, I could simply take my true form and burn it out, though it would greatly weaken me. As a mortal, even half -divine, her very soul is being eaten away with no defence against it. The Cure can’t heal essence that no longer exists.” Aphrodite sighed, “A tragedy really...it’s so rare to find love so deep and true these days.” 

Percy keened, curling over Annabeth’s still body, cradling her head with infinite care even as he shuddered and cried. He looked desolate, like the final strike of being denied reunion in the afterlife had shattered him. 

After all, it is the souls of heroes that find rest in Elysium, at least there, they could have been reunited... 

Her soul ached with loss. 

~~~∞Ω∞~~~ 

I felt it when she died. 

It was like someone reached in and ripped out a chunk of my heart, soul and chest all at once. The absence was... suddenly the connection I’d always felt, the zingy, crackling sparks that danced along my nerves, was gone. The sharp-bright-hard-live feeling that was _Annabeth_ was like a throbbing dark spot, like the after-image of a flash. 

It had always felt like a dance; I was the ocean, the rolling waves and billowing clouds, vast and encompassing, whereas she was the storm in her eyes, the wind that stirred my waves into action, that gave them direction, the lightning of her inspiration that arched among the clouds whipped up from sea-spray. Together, we created a perfect hurricane, a cyclone, a typhoon. I would be the power, whatever she did I would amplify, conduct, protect. She was the precision, in the chaos of my making, she would strike the critical blow from nowhere, unexpected and absolute. 

Of course, the one time I brought it up to Annabeth, she laughed, called me a Seaweed Brain and challenged me to a spar, because in the time it must have taken me to think up something like that, something might have atrophied. 

She never would again. 

~~**_She was deadeadeadead_ ** ~~

There was a void with clean, cauterized edges. I still love her so, so much, but it was like something was suddenly... _gone_. 

The others were grieving around me, crying quietly and crowding close to each other for comfort. I... was numb. The world was grey and dull, even the magnificence of Olympus - _Annabeth’s_ designs, _her_ architecture, _her_ _pride_ _and joy-_ was flat and uninspiring. 

Poseidon moved forward and gently gripped my shoulder, “Son, she will receive a hero’s burial, but there is a war to be won.” 

~~~∞Ω∞~~~ 

Zeus slapped our ship across the ocean and right into the heart of battle at Camp Half-Blood. 

Between the G-force, the ringing in my ears and the echoing aches in my chest, I couldn’t get my thoughts straight; everything was jumbled and blurred, like I'd gotten high or something. I don’t know. The highest I'd gotten was in Apollo’s chariot. That was fun. Too bad Thalia’s afraid of heights. It was shiny. And gold. Like Leo! Warm and shiny-goldy. Always moving. Leo’s always doing something. When Leo comes in you always wake up a little bit more, makes every day a bit anticipating, worth facing? Um... 

Someone was speaking, it might be Leo. I couldn’t listen. Sound echoed oddly. Every detail was blurred and hyper-focused, shifting, like lapping waves... I was aching and so, _so_ exhausted _(but the fight wasn’t over)_ , but I couldn’t indulge in the bone-deep tiredness and numbing apathy ( _it would be so, so easy to just-_ ), my fellow demigods, both Greek and Roman, needed everyone fighting like it was the end of the world, because if we failed, it was. 

_(To protect those of mine that remained...anything.)_

Reyna was leading the Romans with Frank, calling out formations and co-ordinating the forces with terrifying efficiency. The rest of the seven were working alone or paired already. With effort, I tipped myself forward until suddenly, I was sprinting over to the Camp Half-Bloods, slashing and stabbing on the way, body numb and blood rushing in my ears. A cheer went up among the demigods, the sight of them soothed an ache I didn’t know I had and for a second, my head breached the waters of apathy and I _breathed_ . I looked around, gaging numbers, making and discarding strategies, noting where the surviving Neo-Argonauts were and how to work my forces to _protect-aid-enable_ their health and victory. 

I fought my way over to Clarisse, pulling the water from the grasping muddy ground as I went and keeping it close, swirling around my torso. She decapitated a dracnae and followed the motion to face me. She smirked, “Took yah long enough to turn up, Prissy!” She glanced over my shoulder, “where’s the Wise Girl? I wouldn’t think she’d let yah out of arms reach so soon after finding yah.” 

I clenched my jaw. “Annabeth’s dead.” The void throbbed. The madness burned spiralled higher (hot and cold, storm and fire). Clarisse looked shell-shocked. I met her eyes and watched _incomprehension-horror-denial-Grief-Bloodlust-RAGE_ harden her eyes and a haze of red descend around her. I _grinned._ “GREEKS!” my voice carried; I felt my warriors’ attention shift to me, “They seek our death! They have killed our comrades; they have killed Annabeth Chase!” there was a moment of complete stillness, I watched their eyes. 

I _grinned._

_“_ _ALALAlalalalalalalaaa_ _!”_

~~~∞Ω∞~~~ 

A trilling howl resonated from the Greeks, a long, wavering, high-pitched sound piercing the air; a soul-deep exclamation of fury, of grief, of the savage joy of vengeful combat. 

The hairs on the back of Reyna’s neck rose. The Greeks fought like demons. Each warrior was a manic whirl of celestial bronze and raw viciousness. This is why the Greeks were feared by their enemies from many leagues away. Why the Spartans were considered undefeatable on land. 

It was chaotic. It was barbaric. It was turning the Tide of victor unstoppably in their favour. 

Well. Can’t let the crazy _greaci_ have all the fun. 

~~~∞Ω∞~~~ 

Frank met Reyna’s eyes over the bristling spear of the Legion. As one, lips pulled back, teeth bared and hearts beat to the tone of war-drums. He channelled the power and ferocity of the unrelenting heat-storm billowing withing his mind, saw Reyna’s eyes glow with unearthly light and led the Legion to War. 

~~~∞Ω∞~~~ 

_‘Seven half-bloods-’_

_‘A half-blood of the eldest gods-’_

_‘-shall answer the call, to storm or fire the world must fall-’_

_‘-and fail without friends, to fly home alone-’_

_‘-an oath to keep with final breath-’_

_‘-and you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end.’_

_‘-and foes bear arms and the doors of death.’_

~~~∞Ω∞~~~ 

In the end, Gaia fell to fire. 

The Earth knows how to weather storms, how to turn pounding rain and lashing waves to nurturing moisture, but it’s _fire_ that causes devastation. So, I pulled all of the water ( _my father's water, MY water, my heritage, my home, MINE._ ) out of the deceptively serene goddess and with all that I had in my fracturing, exhausted, frenzied state, I reached into that place of shattered glass from Tartarus, filled my lungs, my veins, my soul with flames and _burned._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, so, I tried to do cute snuggles and comforting fluff, but the I started writing it.
> 
> So, personal discovery, I cannot produce softer than bittersweet and realy struggle with dialogue.
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> Have some sadness!~

The next few days were...hazy. The wounded were healed. Damaged cabins were mended and the Romans built themselves temporary barracks on the open grass by the Arena and Forge. Once the adrenalin faded, so did the hysteria-tinged relief, leaving a subdued silence hanging over the Camp. I... went through the motions. I tended the  pegasi (Blackjack was overjoyed to see me, but calmed quickly and didn’t push on where I’d been. He didn’t even ask for doughnuts.), helped put out fires ( _ water, water _ ,  _ like that could erase the image of my HELLFIRE _ ) and carry materials (I’d gotten much stronger physically sometime  - ~~_ Iknow _ **_ exactly _ ** _ when _ ~~ _ - _ in Tartarus; I could leap incredible distances and lift the weight of boulders with just a burning surge of determination,  ~~ my team-mates made sure  ~~ no-one said anything). 

Seeing the Camp healing helped. Watching the recovery happen felt like...a battered ship mooring in a sheltered harbour, like relief, like safety and being able to rest.  ~~ Though the wounds left stark scars . ~~

(The satyrs tried to cover the battleground in grass. Blood red poppies bloomed instead, a sea of crimson in another form.)

Then...came the day of the funerals.

~~~∞Ω∞~~~

It  was a sunny day.

Of course, it always was at Camp unless the Lord of the Skies was feeling particularly petty.

It was quiet.

There were three hundred demigods present, each was as silent as the dead we were honouring.

There weren’t many bodies, but enough. Final count was taken that morning, with the late addition of a Roman Legionnaire who passed in the night from, reportedly from injuries (a severed spine, a mangled stump of an arm and a ruined eye on the other side, with a future of misery besides. Nothing nectar, ambrosia or the Apollo-blessed medics could heal. Nothing a fourteen-year-old aspiring career-soldier of Rome could recover from. Children of Hypnos and Morpheus had been unobtrusively stationed near the critical care units of the infirmaries); a total of twenty-five dead- fifteen from the Twelfth Legion, eight from Camp Half-Blood and two Hunters of Artemis.

The Funeral Pyre was stacked and light, the crackling of flames echoing in the stillness.

The Hunters had taken care of their own dead privately the night before, under the dim light of the crescent moon.

The Romans went first.

The dead were laid out, one at a time, each wreathed in golden laurel. The flames were light at Reyna’s signal and the entire Legion  _ came to attention _ ; two-hundred spears bristling, two hundred voices crying out, saluting the dead, hailing the fallen by name and Cohort, a mighty roar of respect, acknowledgement and grief, in the only way the Roman military en masse knows how., with Imperial Gold gleaming  deadly bright and shields pounding the ground like a heartbeat.

When the fires burned out, the ashes were gathered in urns, to be returned to New Rome for burial.

The Greeks went next.

Pollux, who I promised Dionysus I’d keep safe  _ (another lost, another failure carved into the ledger of my soul, another thread cut out of my tapestry,  _ ~~_ when had it got so frayed? _ ~~ _ ), _ who was cut down while trapped in Gaia’s mud, his vines strong enough to save a young girl from Hermes Cabin from the hellhound but not himself, who was finally with his brother again. We learned to weave shrouds as part of training, as Pollux had no cabin-mates and no close friends, with the help of Grover, I made his. He was wrapped in a cloth of green vines, patterned with ripe strawberries, clustered grapes and a bronze sword wreathed in violets in remembrance of his bravery in battle and the unique colour of his eyes. As it burned, it smelled of grapes.

One from Aphrodite Cabin, Drew Tanaka. Her shroud was hot pink and glittered red, bordered with white dove feathers. It burned with the scent of expensive perfume, sickly sweet and heaving on the tongue. 

A brother and sister from Hermes cabin who arrived while I was on the  streets sans memory. Their shrouds were laid together, a clean white patterned with delicate black and amber that smelled of paper, ink and pine.

Jake Mason from Hephaestus, who fought despite injury and was burned in a cloth of interlocked cogs in every size and material. It burned, somehow, and tasted like iron  _ (blood/BLOOD/ _ _ youngbloodspilled _ _ / _ _ toomuch _ _ /TOOMUCH/NEVERGETTHEMBACK/ _ **_ DEAD _ ** _ ). _

A girl from Hecate, inky black  shroud threaded with glowing green runes, myrrh lingering in the back of the throat.

A boy from Athena. Wrapped in cloth like the wing of a great grey owl.

Annabeth Chase.

Athena cabin had approached me about her shroud. They had made her one upon her leaving to find me (as per tradition). I saw it and sobbed. It was grey silk, clouded like the storm of her eyes. The main image was an intricate temple outlined in chalky thread, the Parthenon, with a small silver owl and a strong white stallion together in the frieze. At the foot of the temple was the ocean. Azure cresting waves stitched to kiss the base of the pillars, shifting with the cloth to look like water and shimmering all the colours of an abalone shell in the light. It was beautiful. It was perfect. It killed me inside that she needed it.

She was placed on the pyre by the Athena Counsellor, I was grateful he did instead of me. I couldn’t move. The heat of the flames was like ice on my skin. The scented smoke coiled and burned in my lungs as I ceased drawing breath, the salty sea breeze and freshly carved stone. My eyes burned with dry and wet as my lids refused to lower and my tears refused to stop. I was shaking, but my heart as silent. I was screaming, but I had no voice. 

It was a sunny day

There was rain running down my face.

It was quiet.

The voice of Greece slowly gathered, lifting into the air in mourning, a hundred songs twined together in a haunting melody of love and loss that echoed through the Ages

~~~∞Ω∞~~~

Mom gone in a flash of light – _ screaming- _

The world asleep, fires burning, my people dying,  _ Open the Jar, just  _ **_ Let Hope Go _ ** _. _

Heat, darkness, running through the House of Horrors in the Darkness, hunger, shaking,  _ you choked a goddess on her own poison and DIDN’T STOP WHY DIDN’T YOU STOP _ **_ MONSTER _ **

Blond hair. Cold skin. Wide eyes _staring._ Whispers in the wind ~~_YoU_ _kILleD_ _hEr_ _._~~

My eyes snapped opened to sunlight filtering in through my window. The rest of the Seven _(Six)_ were scattered around me, hammocks strung up and sleeping bags laid down in Cabin 3. A warm surge of _protect-love-gratitude_ spread through me and overflowed, I could almost imagine wrapping them up in it like a blanket, or a bubble _._ They had stuck close. _They_ were the reason no-one had asked for details about my absence. _They_ were the driving force behind getting up each day (despite the grey numbness – _what'sthepointshe’s_ ** _dead_** _and_ ** _goneforever_** _-_ with painful bright-sharp sparks - _loss-ache-agony-failure-_ and insidious whispers – _you're Cursed, don’t you See,_ _Everyone_ _dIeS_ _around_ _YoU_ _,_ _Oathbreak_ _-Child,_ _Don’t_ _get close-_ _You'llKILLTHEM_ _,_ _Did_ _you think Achilles’ Mark was Gone?_ _DoYouReallyThinkYouCanEscapeTheCursesYouTookOn_ _?-)._ They stuck close. I was never alone and pathetically grateful for that fact, but I could see them getting restless. What we had now was not meant to last _(good things always go so fast)._

The mourning songs in the back of my mind, ringing in my ears, I breathed.

Frank and Hazel were deep asleep either side of me, her curled up in her sleeping bag, lose to my side and him a muscular ball of bulldog, not far from my shoulder. They, Reyna and the Legion would be returning to New Rome today. _(New Rome? Almost home-from-home-from-_ _hearthhome_ _. A new road, a bright path, lost in the too-light-harsh-white_ _iceland_ ~~_it’ssocoldinsidemyheartit_ ** _aches_** _)_~~

Leo was sprawled in a hammock on Franks side, cloth twisted and limbs hanging out awkwardly, for all his expression showed complete relaxation. Apparently, I’m not the only one who drools in my sleep  _~~(ow)~~. _ He had confessed, quietly in the flickering firelight of his burning hands, when they retreated to Percy’s cabin and drew comfort from each other's presence, of his oath to save a lonely girl from her island-cage, a vow to rescue the girl he loved, was loved him back and brought him balance  _ (the lonely girl, another one of your failures wasn’t she? You promised. Promised and didn’t check. She had to curse your Love. Don’t you see what you drive people to? Maybe you should just  _ **_ stop _ ** _ ).  _ He would leave when the Legion did.

Piper was next to Hazel, almost under Leo. She, and the rest, had been my anchors to reality. Kind Frank, who felt emotion like whirling storm, but turned that chaos into passion wrapped around his heart, never swirling out of control because he never let the pressure get too much. He acknowledged what he felt and acted on those feelings, increasingly frequently as he gained confidence in himself. Tricky Hazel, who was so like me but different. We resonated like sequential strings but she was steadier, more grounded (probably something to do with her literal affinity for the underground). She taught me how to rest in the moment, that it was okay to linger for a while, unseen in the concealing fog. Bright Leo, who burned like the sun, who was my mirrored image in many ways, who’s ember flecked dark brown eyes I looked into and saw _ pain _ , who looked at my crooked smile and saw his own shield of humour against the screaming, drowning cold. Piper, who was a stranger but felt familiar. She didn’t have a bond with Annabeth, didn’t know her enough to grieve as deeply as Thalia (we hadn’t spoken. She’d been around camp all week as Lieutenant of Artemis and  _ couldn’t stand to look at me _ ), or Grover, or even the rest of the Greek campers. But Piper was soothing like the summer rain, pleasantly cool, constant and unhurried. 

She and Jason seemed to have reached some sort of... understanding? Or...just, something felt different between them, like the uncertain trills in the lyrical rush of her river-song and his wide, warm aura had settled into something more...distant, but content, settled.

Jason was closest to the door, a guard to promise them safe slumber if nothing else. We had talked a bit over the last few (days...? No more than a month...surely). With Frank being field promoted to Praetor, Jason now had no responsibility, aside from his long-term goal of bringing worship to all the minor deities and spirits, so he was always found hovering nearby.

It was nice for a while, having someone new to lean back on, but even in my greyed-out state, it didn’t take long to start to feel constraining. So, I introduced him to Grover, who had gotten around in his search or Pan (a few days into the reconstruction effort, Grover and I had a long talk. About my disappearance, about Annabeth, about Tartarus. Turns out he had been getting emotional feedback from me the whole time, so he knew  _ exactly  _ what I had been feeling. I told him I didn’t think I could survive like this  _ without  _ **_ her _ ** long enough to get any better and asked him to cut the empathy link between us, so he wouldn’t get hurt. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen Grover truly angry. There was screaming. There was crying. There was just us, clinging to each other, sobbing for a painful ordeal and a lost sister, brothers by bond with the link wide open, saying everything we couldn’t put into words). They got along great and would be heading out into the world to the key places Grover had marked as divinely inhabited to get a start on the whole thing.

They would be gone soon. Out of sight, out of reach.  ~~**_ G _ ** **_ one,  _ ** ~~ _~~just like~~ - _ _.  _ But not yet. They were here now and something about that made my broken soul hum in contentment. It was all I could do to be near them while I could and bite my tongue to keep the words  _ please stay, don’t go, please don’t leave me all alone  _ behind his teeth.

Sometime later (a minute? Twenty? After Tartarus, the passage of time didn’t register properly; watching the cycle of day and night still didn’t feel real), while the rest slowly roused and we lazed together in the sunlight before breakfast, there was a knock on the door. Muscles coiled, eyes darted to the door and window, vulnerable points even though Hazel had layered Mist to keep out intruders over both points on the first night. My hands stilled where I was braiding Hazel’s hair (Frank was leaning on my shoulder watching, taking notes for future reference) and suddenly held Riptide, drawn and gleaming. Jason opened the door, bodily blocking the view in, Lupa’s training shining through in every detail, from a flash of canine tooth in a not-exactly-smile to the straightness of his spine with a hint of looming. “Yes?” He had a nice voice, middle range and steady, with a hint of rumble and an edge of natural authority.

It was Connor and Travis. “Is Percy here?”

“Chiron wants to talk to him.” to their credit, neither showed any weakness in the face of Jason’s (low-level) ‘Praetor-voice & Wolf-stare' intimidation. I got up and padded over, rocking the ‘yesterday's clothes’ look. I had always liked the Stoll brothers, ever since I first arrived at Camp. Since meeting Hazel, I had a better idea why; they had the same fog-feel as she did, only they were more whispers-from-the-gloom, raising-hairs-on-the-back-of-the-neck sort, which might just be my bias from knowing them and being one of the relative few who could recognize the way they smirk and the anything but innocent light in their eyes as ‘who have they pranked and how?’. I  dunno _ (what do you even know anymore? They don’t know you  _ _ now _ _ , you’re a monster now, can they see it? Please don’t see it. Don’tLook _ **_ Don’tLook _ ** _ ) _ . They seemed mostly-serious now though, so I nodded at them and made my way to the Big House, Jason silently at my side.

~~~∞Ω∞~~~

I walked with Percy to meet Chiron. Well, maybe ‘walked’ is a misleading term. From what I’d seen, Pery didn’t ‘walk’ He flowed. Every move he made melded together into one action, sinuous in the way of athletes, economic like a loping wolf. Innately predatory. Every step like a rolling wave, unstoppable like shadow of a cloud passing high overhead.

It was impressive.

I kept on his right side, far enough out and back to flank him while keeping myself in his line of sight. This was his show. I was here to remind him that he had people at his back  whose loyalties (in an unspoken way) were to each other first.

We found Chiron waiting on the porch. I suddenly realised how very old Chiron must feel, surrounded with bright young pups that he had to watch gain shadows in their souls and grow fangs slicked with blood. His white tail flicked once in agitation, “Percy, I had hoped you would never number in those who learn what I am about to tell you, but the Fates are cruel to all that would wish a different path. Come inside, we have much to discuss.”

~~~∞Ω∞~~~

Soul-Fire. Flames. Fire-Magic.

Apparently, sometimes a demigod would find themselves in a potentially very lethal situation (surprise, surprise) that no weapon, training or godly intervention could get them out of. 

Sometimes they died. A shroud was burned when they didn’t return (if they got to a Camp in the first place) if they were lucky, or Lupa’s Pack got dinner or they just became anonymous bones in a corner.

Sometimes they said  ** No ** . 

Sometimes they said  **_ I will not die this way. Not here. Not today.  _ **

And they caught fire. Not like Leo’s fire. Rainbow fire.

(What _.  _ ~~_ What does it even matter now anyway? _ ~~ _ ) _

The story of Promethius giving fire to humanity was, according to Chiron, a lot more spiritual than literal. See, humans had been created (the current version, the one that didn’t get destroyed for being too crazy or too peaceful or something) and had learned all about rock-hit-rock-make-mini-sun fire themselves. The problem was, Zeus saw that what they’d made was a bit too much like the divine White Fire innate to the Olympian gods, otherwise known as their true forms. He was going to just take the fire away, period, but Hera had been getting on his case about rash decision making (Her Royal Hypocrite), so he looked closer before he did anything. 

Bad luck, not only were they making civilizations built on the fire they made, but they also had a kind of innate energy. It wasn’t White, more like fragmented White Fire, like light split through a prism. Long story short, he freaked took the fire from mortals by locking it deep within them, spreading misery and discord worldwide (what, ages later, Hesiod referred to as Zeus withdrawing ‘the means of life’), until Prometheus, being a Titan and quite cunning besides, ‘stole’ the fire back for mankind using what he’d learned about souls from his half-siblings the Giants.

Once that happened, loads of gods and goddesses jumped in and started sponsoring humans with certain flame-colours, all coming under Iris and Hestia as the top authorities. 

Over the millennia, the gods had also noticed that when they had demigod kids, they tended to have a specific type overall.

Apparently, Apollo’s kids tended to have sparkling yellow that could heal, among other things, also Demeter’s. Hermes’ leaned more to a dark bluey purple (‘indigo’ apparently, like, does anyone even know what that colour is?  ~~_ My Wise-Girl would know _ ~~ ) that was all about tricks and deceptions, Ares’ had caustic red like blood (typical), Hypnos was all about a light shimmering blue that soothed like nothing else with the odd electric green  **_ ( ~~MYANNABETH~~ _ ** ~~**_ HOWDARETHEYFEELTHESAME _ ** **_ ITHURTS _ ** ~~ **_ ) _ ** that popped up in Athena and Hephaestus with good shielding and temporary sharpening capabilities. They were all pretty common, following the rainbow order of red being most common, to ‘indigo’ being comparatively rarer However, there were outliers in the oranges and purples (‘violet' or whatever) that just so happened to tie in with the Big Three. Oranges were great leaders (the image of an orange in Praetor purple and toga brightened my mood slightly) while purples were the perfect protectors and defenders of home borders. Zeus’ and Hades’ kids could be anywhere on the colour chart and might have more than one colour (because that’s a thing too), but of all the demigods, they had the most potential to be oranges (there were official Ancient Greek names for each of them, but Chiron was my Latin teacher for a year, he knew me, so he just told me the names once and stuck to colours for the rest of the lecture). Poseidon? Almost exclusively ‘violet’. I remember once he told me ‘the sea does not like to be restrained', at the time it really struck a chord with me somewhere deep in myself, now I know it’s apparently the entire MO of nearly every single one of his kids. Even the ones that have another colour (usually orange or light blue) have the purple  ~~_ like the bruises on my soul _ ~~ .

_ (The perfect defender. You  _ **_ FAILURE _ ** _ ) _

And here we are.

Awkwardly sipping drinks because Chiron is now impressing upon us the importance of keeping the fire secret from the mortals, lest they kidnap those like me for nefarious purposes. Not that they could see it anyway. Except the mortals who were Active themselves. Because that was also a thing. And they made a mini society of themselves like the demigod Camps. Because why not?

Jason apparently knew some of this stuff as part of his Praetorial duties to ensure the training and ability of his forces.

Jason was weird. He seemed...softer, now that we weren’t in a high-stress suicide-quest to save the world and thwart a Primordial entity. He still carried the bearing of a Leader (Jason was apparently amber-orange with a hard-sharp edge of spectral green, just not quite Active), but was more approachable with his delicate glasses and small smiles that tugged at the scar on his lip. We...were okay. The circumstances we met in were less than ideal and the Death-Match in Kansas was a bit embarrassing in hindsight, but we had come to a sort of...understanding; I trusted him to keep our people safe when I couldn’t and he did the same to me. It was still a bit up in the air about leadership and authority (I refuse to subjugate myself to  _ anyone _ , no matter how much I like and respect them. There was a reason I gained Lupa’s approval despite being Greek), but hopefully we wouldn’t be in a pertinent situation anytime soon.

~~~∞Ω∞~~~

The Legion left. Dismantling their fortress and driving off in a fleet of black SUV’s (their terrestrial transport funding was way better than their naval efforts), Frank and Hazel gone with a tight hug, promises of regular Iris Messages and a place to go if needs be and two small tokens pressed into my palms by large, warm, bow-calloused hands and delicate, cool fingers cleverly infiltrating the walls of my curled fingers.

Leo roared off on Happy the Dragon to the cheers and jeers of the send-off party, leaving only a lingering warmth where he clasped my elbow and looked directly into my eyes, silent words passing between us, and the cool touch of metal threaded onto the cord around my throat.

Jason hesitated. He was reluctant to leave me alone, but his constant supervision rankled something within me. I needed space and lots of it, so we compromised; he and Grover would come with me as far as my mom’s house, then we would split.

I stood on top of Half-Blood Hill looking over the place I'd thought of as a second home since eleven, while the dragon eyed me suspiciously, the Golden Fleece swaying in the salt-forest-fire-metal-strawberry-pine breeze high in Thalia’s Tree.

_ “Percy!”  _ Piper came racing up the hill, Jason and Grover following at a normal pace a way behind. “Please take me with you.” 

I looked at her, not entirely sure what to make of this, “Um.”

She steamrollered over my witty reply  _ (gods why do I even try?) _ "Look, I don’t really know anyone at Camp. I’m not your typical daughter of Aphrodite, I  _ like _ training and fighting, I don’t choose to spend my life in front of a mirror checking my makeup and preening my hair. There’s nothing for me here and all that’s at home is a father I never see or hear from. I know you don’t really want company, but...two blades are better than one?” she finished with a wince, losing confidence the longer she went on. 

I thought about it. Piper seemed cool in the few moments on the Argo II where we actually relaxed a bit; she showed a good sense of humour, interest in the world around her and a drive to improve herself to better aid those around her. I got  that, I could respect that. Also, she was nice to be around, she could read the mood of a room or a person instantly and act accordingly. She was a soothing presence  _ (like the cool rushing streams, the colour of her soul-fire).  _ She had started to fidget a bit, just shifting her weight slightly between each foot. I should probably say something, same rules as Jason? Yeah. “Sure.” Ah. Well, I'm not an expert on women, but if Piper is anything like my mom,  ~~ Annabeth ~~ or even Rachel, there would be no getting rid of her now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything you want to see? Don't want to see? Just get a nagging idea out there in a rant so it will leave you alone? Literally anything is welcome.
> 
> Also, i'm going to try to kee this a once-a-month sort of thing, but don't hold your breath.
> 
> Tara~


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit short, because I tried to dialogue and for some reason, writing people talking at eachother is hard. idk why. Then it went off into more angst. I'm so sorry. I'm officially adding it to te tags, bc this is geting rediculous. I DONT WANT TO ANGST. It just happens. I swear i have absolutely no control over where this goes. I want sunshine and its all just like HURRICANE.
> 
> Please bear with me for a little while longer. The storm has to pass eventually.

* * *

My first thought was _‘he looks so old’_. 

My second was _‘they’ve killed him'_. 

He was pale, under that sun-kissed skin of his. Like he was ill. 

Skin stretched tight over his cheeks and creasing at the corners of his eyes. Those were not laugh lines. 

( _My boy, my precious son, what have they done to you?_ ) 

His eyes were dim and weary and there was _pain_ in them and something _fragile,_ breakable. He was so strong. Had always been strong. Like that cursed lightning, I suddenly knew. 

If I turned him away now, he would crumble. Something terrible had happened to him and now he just looked...lost. 

I staggered over to him, vision blurring. He was so tall now, must have grown another inch at least _(so why did he seem so small?)_ he was almost bent double over me, curling into my embrace, just like when he was a child _(he’s still a CHILD. How DARE THEY)._

I pressed my head against his chest and listened to his heat beat. 

_He’s_ **_alive._ **

My voice shook. 

“Welcome home” 

~~~∞Ω∞~~~ 

There is nothing quite like sitting with your mother as a son whose been absent for five months, with the closest thing you’ve got to a childhood friend and two strangers announced as close friends, in perfect **dead silence** , sipping at drinks and awkwardly munching on an eclectic array of nibbles scrounged up from the fridge and cupboards. 

My mom hadn’t let go of me once and was pressed close next to me with her arm wrapped around my waist and mine gently framing the curve of her shoulders (she didn’t realise, but her fingers were clenched bruise-tight on my hip. The marks would heal within minutes once she let go, so mom would never know. I wasn’t going to say anything, not with her shoulders shaking like that. _Not like I don’t deserve so much worse._ _How can she stand to touch me at all?_ ). 

Paul sighed and got up quietly, “I’ll get out the spare bedding and set it up okay?” guilt twinged in my stomach, he looked so tired. 

I coughed to clear the lump in my throat, “It’s alright, I can do that. You should go back to sleep, don’t you have class tomorrow?” When did Goode break up again? I’d been there. I’d been attending there five months before. _Five months._ When the world looked so bright and the future hopeful. _When I had Annabeth and she had me._ It seems so distant, intangible like fingers through smoke ( _smoke, whisps of acrid smoke, feels like all that’s left though Rage still Burns in that desperate corner of my mind that_ _NeVeR_ _sToPs_ **_SCREAMING_** _)._

He breathed a laugh, something odd in his eyes, “No kid, it’s the least I can do, and summer vacation just started last week.” he hesitated, then firmly clasped my shoulder. “It’s good to have you back, Percy. You were missed.” Something warm unfurled in my chest, while something cold and heavy sunk in my stomach. A sad, quiet voice whispering in my ear said, _‘Do you know who you were missing? Because I don’t feel like the person I was...and I don’t think I can ever be someone like that again.’_

Is it okay not to be the person everyone around you thinks you are? 

Is it lying when everyone accepts the body of a ghost? 

~~~∞Ω∞~~~ 

A piercing wail shattered the silence. 

I lunged towards the source, vaulting over the table, sword in hand- 

_“Percy, no!”_

_-_ Piper and Jason moving, responding, drawing weapons, _tooslowtooslow_ _,_ Grover, Mom; untrained, no instinct. Monsters. Monsters must have found _usmemine_ _,_ mom, Paul; vulnerable. Protect. 

I was at the door _(threat hidden,_ _protectFIGHTkilleliminate_ _,_ _savethem_ ** _savethemSAVETHEM_** ** _,_** _beforethey’regonetoo_ _),_ heart ponding in my ears, fire flaring in my _blood/blade/soul/hands/eyes_ and yanked it open, Riptide leading to _slashstabslay-_

_..._ Pink. And Blue. Orange. Mauve _(No Pery, they’re not both just ‘purple’, lilac, mauve and lavender are entirely separate shades. It happens in blue as well. Yes, really. Every colour has shades Seaweed Brain)._ Yellow. Pastels. Like a sunrise over the ocean. Seashell chime strung up from the ceiling, spiralling down to- a cot. 

Oh. 

My baby sister. 

_I HAVE A BABY SISTER!!!_

(Ah, of course, she would have been born by now wouldn’t she? Mom was in her third trimester, Paul, Annabeth and I had painted the walls -a whole array, just pale enough to not be garish, _"there are more colours than just pink, I gave you the freedom to explore the colours of the world without the pressure of gender stereotypes, an I’ll do the same for this little one too._ ”- and decorated –blankets, toys, smooth shells and shimmering veils- before Hera **ripped it all away.**

She was crying. 

My sword dropped and she was cradled in my arms by the time the others came crashing through the doorway. 

I knew them. They were **safe.** More important was my distressed baby sis. I’d taken classes with Paul (a lifetime ago) about this stuff, so I held her close to my heart (always) and gently jogged her up and down, stroking her spine and shushing her as soothingly as I could. Mom appeared next to me with a bottle, handing it to me with a watery smile. Baby sis latched on instantly with her tiny little hands coming up to hold the bottle with me and her eyes blinking up at me. They were sea-green. Huh. Apparently, my eyes aren’t from Poseidon after all, because that’s definitely Pauls salt-and-pepper hair on her perfect little head. 

When she was done, Mom took her and did the burping then cradled her in one arm, the other tugging me closer. I tickled her belly gently _(gently, gently)_ and looked at my amazing mom, “what’s her name?” 

Her eyes crinkled and sparkle with saltwater, “Estelle.” she bumped Baby-Estelle up higher to face me, “Estelle Blue Blofis, meet your big brother, Perseus Jackson” 

I grinned crookedly at her, “Heya Baby Star, I'm Percy.” _And I would die to keep you safe._

My face ached slightly, it suddenly hit me that I hadn’t smiled, properly, _since_ _A-_ in months. Surprisingly, it felt alright. She wouldn’t want me to wreck myself over her **de** ...being gone _(she’d also want to be Alive, bit you couldn’t quite manage that could you?)._

~~~∞Ω∞~~~ 

By the time the Blue-Fish had dozed off, Paul had set Jason, Grover and me up with pillows and sleeping bags in the living room and Piper up in mine, despite her protests. I stared up at the semi-familiar ceiling and wished for, for... ( **home** ) somewhere else. The white stone and driftwood timber ceiling of Cabin 3? The mosaic of the Fifth Cohort Barracks I'd only spent three nights in? My own room here, just next-door? Maybe the living metal and warm wood of the Argo II. Maybe the open night sky, watched over by Zoë set among the stars. All of them. None of them. A place to feel _safe_ and _free..._

I woke hours later, for once without a cold sweat and a scream in my throat. Always a good thing. 

Mom was making pancakes, thick and delicious-smelling. I staggered over and reached for a plate to pile high with blueberry pancakes, blue disks of deliciousness, superior to all other breakfast foods, better than ambrosia, so great that- 

_“Perseus Jackson, what is that on your arm.”_

I looked at my mom. She was looking at my sword-arm. I looked at my sword-arm. It was still attached. Not even injured or anything. I mean, my nails were still nubs from when I scrabbled against the rock to gain purchase when we were keeping the Doors of Death shut and climbing cliffs by the Phlegethon and falling into **Tartarus** (No. Notgoingtherenow _moveon_ )… but Hazel and Piper had tidied up the ragged edges and there were a few new/old silver scars and my Legion tattoo, but- 

Ah. 

Well, dam. 

I hunched down slightly and cocked my head to the side (bared neck, submission and supplication. For all Lupa had failed to turn me into a proper Roman, she sure had instilled lupine body language and pack dynamics into my hindbrain), “Um, Mom, well, uh...so after Hera kidnapped me and wiped my memories” 

“She did **what.** ” Okay, that was terrifying. Hades hath no fury like Sally Blofis neé Jackson scorned. I swear her warm chocolate-brown eyes were gleaming with ice blue rage. Moving swiftly onwards, befre my mom storms Olympus to cut a bitch. 

“I ended up at the Roman training centre, the Wolf House and then at thee Roman Camp/City thing Camp Jupiter. The Roman aspects are a thing as well and Roman-Hera, Juno, kinda got me to carry her over the territory line whileiwasbeingchasedbysomemonsters which was the Little Tiber River, which washedaawaytheCurseofAchilles and so I joined the Legion and met Frank and Hazel (they’re awesome by the way), then there was this quest and a battle and I got elected Praetor (co-leader of the Twelfth Legion of Rome with Reyna, who is totally badass and I didn’t know I knew from Circe’s Island) then A-Anna-” my voice broke off. I breathed “Wise-Girl found me with some Greeks like Piper and sort-of Jason, stuff happened and we ended up on the run and sort-of questing and Wise-Girl broke off because _Athena-_ ” he tried not to spit the name, but definitely, one-hundred percent failed, “decided my Wise-Girl needed to _prove her worth_ and when we got her back, there was a **Pit** and-” the sound of shattering porcelain broke me out of the trance-like feverish diatribe I had slipped into. I looked down at my hand. The shards had cut into it a bit deeply. It was also on fire. The rich purple flames almost obscured the crimson of the blood (my life-blood, bright red like Annabeth’s ) and were healing the cuts. Forcing splinters out from within. It hurt, distantly. Not much, I’d had so much worse, after all. Then it was healed, leaving faintly pink skin and drying scarlet rivulets, like river delta. The trails burred. My clean hand _(_ _taintedsullied_ **_stained_ ** **_,_ ** _dripping blood you just can’t see)_ swiped at my eyes and came away wet. Oh. Why was I crying? 

Arms closed around me. 

I slightly-tensed, would have lashed out, but they were **safe.** Soothing-cool-home-water-kin-lake-safe. My chest burned it hurt there’s no air I'm drowning I can’t see the worlds blurring moreandmoreandmore darknessclosinginearthclosingabovemyheadpoisonedwatermiserywaterscreamingvoicesofloahingguiltgriefAklyspoisonriversstreamsblooddarknessclosinginshadowsdangermonsterslurkingLabrynthHadesTartarus- 

~~~∞Ω∞~~~ 

Sally Jackson eased her son into Tranquillity-induced sleep and his lax form into his friend Jason’s arms, who took him into the living room and lay him comfortably onto the only couch. She knew Percy would never allow anyone he wouldn’t trust with their lives into the apartment, but it certainly made her more approving of the tall blond soldier with –now that she was looking, she saw- a similar tattoo on his forearm, though with an eagle, rather than a trident, under the lettering and many, many more lines inked into his flesh. She forcefully turned her mind away from the implication. It would only upset her _(make her_ ** _Rage_** _)._

She closed her eyes and allowed herself the span of three breaths and the gently lapping of her own Rain lake-waters to soothe the turmoil in her mind and emotions. 

When she was done, she turned to her son’s oldest friend and saw such crushing grief and bleeding raw sympathy in him that she almost bit her tongue. But no. She had to know to be able to address the situation she found herself (her son) in. There is a time for peace-keeping and mercy. But every-when else is for cruelty and viciousness. Knowledge is power, an information paves the path of survival. 

Above all else, the Underground had taught her this. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger!  
> Do you hate me yet? I didn't even get half the thing I planned for this chapter done, but I thought, 'ah well, I'll be cruel to all the lovely people giving this their time. No regrets'. It's late too. For absolutely no good reason. Just my procrastination. 
> 
> Anyway, as per last chapter, please feel free (please) to tell me about places you want on the (eventual) travel montage. If not then maybe a specific situation? Or whatever. If I don't use it in the (kinda) immediate future, I might save it for later on down the line.
> 
> Ciao~


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello you beautiful peeps!  
> Still no traveling. It will happen! Just not when I want it to apparently.  
> At least it's on time?  
> Enjoy?

When I woke up then next day (feeling...weird. The sleep I slept was not the sleep I tend to sleep. It was almost like zen-sleep, with a very faint undercurrent of false-calm  _ PANIC _ **_ RAGE _ ** _ FIGHTITOFF _ **_ YOUCAN’TDOTHISTOME _ ** _ IREFUSETOBECONTROLLED _ **.  ** Or something), mom took me out to Central Park to have a talk. She led me to a corner of the grounds and actually quite high up in an old oak tree. She turned and looked me dead in the eye.

“I am a semi-retired Information Broker and capable assassin of the  Antennaria Famiglia, a Flame society-specific family in the Italian Underground. Otherwise known as the Mafia. In certain circles I am known as Rain user,  Ocelotta. ”

Okay. What? She looked amused, “My Uncle Rick was a freelance Rain assassin, after the plane crash, he took me in and introduced me to his work. When he got sick, I joined a  famiglia he had good relations with in return for aid in paying the hospital fees. After that, I was a feeder, a ground worker reporting whispers and carrying out the occasional assassination contract, until...” her voice drifted into something soft and gooey  _ (I think I know where this is going...), _ “Until, I met our father. Then I had you, so I appealed to Don  Antennaria -ah, that is, the Boss- for nominal retirement and here we are.” A smile curled around her lips. “Ironically, my Network is the widest it's ever been.”

I blinked, closed my mouth and looked at the woman I knew as Sally Jackson  _ (don’t even know your own mother. She’s only telling you now because you’re a liability now, can’t control your own abilities; puts her in danger.  _ _ Feels like the whole world is spinning out of control _ _ ). _

“So, now that that’s out the way, what do you know about your Flames?”

And  so it went on, she talked about the social aspect of interaction and relationships between Actives, what to generally expect from a person of each type (pretty similar to cabin stereotypes really) and expectation for me to be a possessive, aggressive territorial prick (I mean I adapted quite easily to living with Lupa’s Wolves, but I’m  _ not actually feral). _

Then we got to controlling my Flames.

“Alright Percy, the first step to consciously drawing on your Flame is to  _ see _ it. Listen to the leaves and slow heartbeat. Clear your mind. And sink down into the core of your being...” 

I tried. I relaxed my muscles as much as I could, opened my ears and tried to empty my head. 

The leaves sounded like whispers. 

My lungs shook. I breathed.

Blood pounding in my ears, in my head, in my eyes  _ (redredredredred),  _ suddenly the air burned and I was back in  **_ Tartarus  _ ** _ and- _

I shoved past/away/through it, (I breathed), the whispers screamed and shrieked and sobbed and-

I fell. (I breathed)

~~~∞Ω∞~~~

_ ‘It’s necessary’  _ She reminded herself. 

Meditation was not going well for Percy. Oh, he was in a trance alright, but every muscle was tensed and there were tears rolling down his cheeks, spiralling across skin, wrenching in different directions under the pull of his power as smoky clouds ethereal fire tumbled around him. Wreathed him.

‘ _He needs to learn this’_ Or he’ll never be able to conceal himself. His Flames, the feared fiamma della nuvola, encompassed him like, well...like their namesakes drifting high above in the atmosphere, even when he wasn’t using them. They were so pure, so deep...he had an aura of them. A battle aura. A miasma of power. The Propagation effect so strong, just being in his vicinity bolstered her own Rain. 

That strength would make him target. A prize. The most exotic of conquests. 

A Cloud was a wild, feral thing, a tiger to be locked in a gilded cage and a gem-encrusted collar, to be broken into self-destruction or drugged on Sky until they  _ liked _ it. 

She had seen it happen ( _ Not her Son) _ . Had watched Elements fall into Flame-Thrall, watched them break and Discord in a Sky that bled their Flame wells dry ( _ she wouldn’t let them use him. She couldn’t stop the gods, but mortals? She’d  _ **_ kill them all _ ** _ ) _ . Had felt the allure herself ( _ it was the sweetest poison) _ . 

Percy wen still.

_ ‘Ah _ ’ she thought, Rain rippling in answer.  _ ‘There he is’ _

~~~∞Ω∞~~~

‘I’m in the heart of a whirlpool’ was my first impression, which, okay, not the first time, but the other times I had distinctly more...body?... I …'looked’ down a myself and saw a core of thrashing deep purple surrounded by pale, pale lilac flowing about and churning up more and more of the unstable pale cotton–wool balls as I watched. 

A flicker in the corner of my ... ‘eye’. A thick streak of sparkling pale blue, indistinct and rippling in the fluffy sea. As I became aware of it, a bundle of Cloud drifted over and brushed against it and sort of...wrapped around it partially, Blue bleeding into ashy lilac, the clump turning distinctly wet  _ (cool-touch, whisper-safe, protection, Mom) _ but calmer. Huh. There were others in there too, a soft glowing soothing Paul-blue and a burning ember of  brighthappycontent blue that was so innocent (in desperate need of protection)...baby Starfish? Well, Flame is apparently sort of a hereditary trait..

I wonder if...

Yep.

There’s _ loads  _ of different coloured-clouds.

Now that I was looking, it was like a wide-open sky at sunset. Mare’s tails washed with faint tones blending together, feeling like Campfire/pinewood/strawberries/laughter/glowing bronze, small fluff-balls in regimented mackerel formation shining gold/rising eagle/safe-calm-old-haven, and closer, a slowly growing pillar of cumulonimbus ( _ see Annabeth? I did listen...always... _ ) with bumbling fleecy crimson ( _ Frank, soft, unrelenting, Storm _ ), wispy indigo flecked with gold ( _ Hazel, bright, mercurial, warm, cool _ ), shining yellow with glint of blue ( _ Leo,  _ _ brightwarmmoving _ _ ,  _ _ tiedboundbonded _ _ to Calypso  _ _ calmsadlonelyfreeRain _ ), dim electric green and gentle amber ( _ Jason, slightly apart,  _ _ gentltetentativehopeful _ ) and shimmering cerulean ( _ Piper,  _ _ freehurtunmooredrainfallingwithoutdirection _ ). Others too,  electrisparkgreeThalia ,  blooredClarisse with the Greeks,  burningvioletReyna spearheading the Roman swathe and a slinky mass of  indigomistvioletcloudblackflameNico anchored to  goldenbrighthealingSunWill on the periphery.

So  **_ beautiful _ ** ...my people. Strong and bright. I would go to war for any one of them. ( _ I have. I would again) _ . To keep them safe...

Anxiety coiled in my stomach, are they safe? I don’t know, I’m not  _ there _ and they’re divided by so many miles, worlds apart, I should go back. Who’s teaching swords to the Campers? There was Luke and then me and who takes over? I have to go back ( _ I can’t go back _ ) I need to protect them ( _ it would kill me _ ) they have to be safe (Camp Half-Blood, Jupiter, New York, Mom-Paul- BabyEstelle , what about this  familyterritoryhomeplace ? How can I protect them when monsters come hunting just form my scent?) I’m not Roman (not a Wolf, not a Greek, not a civilian kid, not a Cloud, I _ just don’t know what I am anymore! _ ) can’t go to New Rome, can’t go to Camp,  _ not without  _ **_ Annabeth...! _ **

My flames raged against the world above me, layered with the screaming sobbing whispers, the serene expanse of m precious sunset clouds wrapped around me,  _ close, beloved, my-reason-why _ , below me...

A burning Pit as dark as the abyss.

Fury so hot it froze, grief so deep it turned shining amethyst into gleaming obsidian, sharp, immutable, a death-blade wreathed in inky darkness. 

This. This was what defeated a Primordial entity as old as existence. This. With Piper’s Rain-song  Charmspeak , Jason’s lightning, Leo’s flaming contraptions and my own impossibly strong violet-edged blows...this is what killed Her. These shattered sharp-glass soul-shards in the void that formed even as light-pale-rich-deep-violet roared int Activation, these are what I pulled on to choke a goddess, to hold the Doors of Death shut in transit, to forcefully fade the Earth Mother for what she did to  ** Annabeth Chase ** . 

I drifted closer. It was me-and-not. It was the source of the echo I'd always felt in a fight I wasn’t sure I’d win, the cold-intense-predatory edge of ‘ **_ I’m taking you with me _ ** ’. 

I sighed, sad all of a sudden. 

This wasn’t a wound that would heal. 

No matter what the future holds, whoever I am will always be that little bit  _ shattered _ from something I shouldn’t have survived.

It  sort of reminded me of Achilles, standing on the bank of the Styx; of the songs of the Legend of his Rage, so strong as to defy Fate and destroy Troy before it was meant to fall, forcing Zeus himself to intervene; of his Love, the wounded heart that fuelled his Fires in  vengeance at the death of Patroclus.

Had my Enemy been any less than She was... I would have turned these agonised fires on myself once the deed was done and probably killed everyone around me in my self-destruction. 

Maybe Zeus would have struck me down then. Or Poseidon. Maybe even Hera, her little pawn too strong for the  Chess mistress , her lapdog gone feral and rabid.

A fitting end for a ghost with a name that means ‘ _ To Destroy’ _ .

I ripped myself away, clawing  upupup out of the suffocating weight, twisting past the beauty of my beloved, tearing through the haze of battle mania and Rage, staggering against the screams/grief/guilt, breath burning in my lungs, physical sensation coming back,  upupupupupupupupupupupupupup , the sickening  redredred light through my eyelids and  AwAkE .

Just as the lion pounced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger!   
> Because I am a nasty meanie.  
> *Regrets*
> 
> I have now spent two chapters on the same section in my outline for one chapter; we are now officially half way through Chapter 3. Huzzah.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi fam~  
> Still in NYC.  
> I swear we will be going places like, chapter after next. Tops

* * *

The first leap got it halfway up the tree, right underneath me. I yanked my legs up and tackled my mom out of the tree right as wickedly sharp steel claws gouged into my branch making the wood groan.

I twisted to take the impact and rolled to my feet once we slammed into the grass, pulled mom up and stepped away from her. Last time I saw this monster Thalia, Zoё and I killed it with lightning, arrows and astronaut food.

The Nemean Lion. A big-ass pussycat with invulnerability like someone dropped it in the River Styx and an attitude to match.

It should not have gotten so close. It’s the size of a pickup truck for Hades’ sake!

A bristly golden-brown truck with malicious gold eyes that stared straight at me from up the tree and roared so loud the leaves shook.

Oh great.

It remembers me.

It scrabbled to turn around and jumped down, the impact visibly rippling through muscle. Apparently even being a mythological lion does not save a cat from the perils of getting down from high places with forward-facing claws.

It started towards me, focused. I bent my knees and uncapped Riptide, ready to jump. If I jump on it’s back it might open its mouth so I can-

It changed course, darting to the side, towards- _MOM!_ It tensed and leapt, claws gleaming, powerful jaw closing on… thin air as she dodged to the side, claws of her own raking along its side, inch long icicles capping her fingers shattering against coarse tawny fur. Her Rain slowed it down slightly, but not enough, it twisted and swung a huge paw out, batting her into a tree. She hit it with a small noise and just…crumpled.

The bark was red.

My breath quickened. I froze. Couldn’t move. _Why can’t I move?! Oh gods it’s going for her again, it’ll rip her open, tear through clothes, skin and **spill her-** ~~ReDrEdReDrEdredredredREDshesbleedingohgodsshesgoingtodieNO!~~_

I launched myself at the lion, closing the distance and physically tackling it away, flames pulsing in every muscle, battle fever a firestorm in my head, in my heart, on my tongue, _fightfightfightfight **fight.**_

We skidded and rolled, the full weight of the lion coming down on me, on my chest, trapping an arm and crushing the breath out of me, my vision going white as ribs creaked and something went _snap._

I wheezed as it shifted but yanked up my other arm, thank the gods my sword-arm, up to skewer it as it went to bite my face off.

I missed. My arm now wedged literally in the lion’s mouth, elbow to fist with Riptide sticking out the side, caught between two teeth. The jaws tried to close around my head, a yellow fang punctured skin at my temple and two more grazed my cheeks, a gust of hot, putrid breath choking me worse than its weight.

Cloud flames surged in my veins, new tissue burning into existence pushing against the fangs in my face, cutting, breaking again and again, hot agony dancing along my nerves, fire bubbling up in my lungs, mending bones, clearing blood, misting breath escaping gritted teeth lilac. I forced more along my arm making the muscles bulge and grow like a super steroids time-lapse video, straining and shaking against the sheer crushing power of the giant lions mouth.

It’s tongue rasped at my elbow, ripping skin away. Blood trickled into my eye and hot saliva dripped into the other one. I squeezed them shut and _pushed,_ teeth grinding, muscles burning and _a fangs tugged out of my face, jaws opened just a bit and-_

It roared and **bit down**.

I screamed.

Violet pulsed and flared. Muscles grew and shrunk. All I knew was _painpainpainpainpain._

I felt coldsharpicepainvoid. I reached for them, bringing them forth even as the shards cut me, coating my skin hardsharpcolddark. Unbending. Unbreaking. Undead.

My eyes flew open and I roared back, yanking my arm out, dragging Riptide through the vulnerable top of its mouth, slicingslashingcutingkilling.

It threw itself off me and started writhing on the ground, desperately clawing at the black flames scorching it to charcoal from within.

I watched a moment before having myself up and staggering over. It would have killed me. My mom. Piper. How many demigods had it killed already since it reformed? Since it first formed? It was a monster. By nature and choice. It still didn’t deserve to suffer. I swung my sword, a blur of brozevioletlilacobsidian, and slayed the Nemean Lion. Again. _HoWmAnYmOrEtImEs?_ Disintegrating it into yellow sands and the lionskin Spoils.

Then the dissociation faded and the world came back into colour.

_Mom!_

My eyes widened and next blink I was next to her, she was breathing ( _thank the gods_ ).

Right, First Aid. Uhm, I’ve got ambrosia- no, godly food burns mortals alive, (blood to ash, bones to sand, never ever give a mortal divine sustenance… unless you mean to kill them), er, recovery position? She was breathing and… has a pulse. It… seems to be a normal beat? Mine’s fast on adrenalin, but usually slower than what hers is now? No wounds (apart from her HeAd that’s bleeding **red** _ohgodsohgods_ ). Should I move her (no)? There’s no-one around, but the grounds churned up and a bit… scorched, someone might be by to investigate the noises of the fight, in wasn’t _quiet._ There’s probably more monsters nearby. There always are. They don’t really go after mortals, but blood spilled is easy prey. Too many trees. Exposed location. With the noise, it’s got to be compromised by now. The apartment’s not far, if I run… three minutes. Pal’s there. Paul will know what to do. He knows stuff. Yeah.

I wrapped in in the skin (an invulnerable blanket can only be a good thing), shuffled her into my arms (gentlygently, princess hold, arms disabled but possible internal injury, so gentlegentle, rest her head on my shoulder, right, good, okay) and took off.

~~~∞Ω∞~~~

Grover found me before I even got out of Central Park.

“ _Percy!”_ He called, eyes wild, “Percy, what happened?! You smell like cat and your face-! Blaah! Are you alright?”

I shrugged his hands off and rasped out, “Grover, I’m fine, my mom-” he laid a hand on her head and closed his eyes briefly,

“She’s okay, no concussion, just unconscious, but _Percy,_ by Pan’s Pipes what happened? You went through some major emotional shifts but, like, calmly? But then you just-” he paused. And stared. “Percy. My man, Perce. _Is that the actual Nemean Lion’s pelt_ ” his voice was absolutely flat. “It is isn’t it. _Di Immortales,_ we left you alone for an hour! You weren’t even alone!”

That…that made me bristle. “Excuse me for fighting off monsters who want to tear me limb from limb and suck out my spinal fluid. Next time I’ll slit my own throat, save us all the trouble.” My breath stalled. I…shouldn’t have said that.

“P-Percy…” I refocused on Grover just as he lunged forward. I flinched. He wrapped his arms around me and bleated, “Blaah. Percy no! Don’t- don’t _say_ that! We were worried! I was worried! You’re my best friend and I’ve only just got you back and I couldn’t find you and no matter how hard I try I _just can’t help you!_ I can _never_ help you! You spent so much time saving me, even when I was supposed to be your Protector! You’re the brother I never had and every time I try to help you, you shut me out! I can’t- I can’t- _Brother…_ ” he sobbed. “Please don’t shut me out.”

I scrunched down awkwardly to tuck my face into his shoulder. My eyes stung. “I’m sorry” I whispered hoarsely, “Brother, I’m sorry. It’s just, too much has happened and _keeps happening_ and everything changes again and again and-” I coughed wetly. “What am I supposed to do now G-Man?”

I pressed my forehead against his bristly neck “There’s no prophecy, I don’t have to keep fighting, but” at this point I was sobbing in earnest, “ _I don’t know how to stop._ I-I can’t stay at the Camps or, or go to college, not without-” I chocked. Grover’s hand soothed up and down my back. My spine was starting to twinge. I adjusted my grip on mom slightly. My eyes were burning, my throat was sore and I was just _so tired._ I just needed- “G-Man, what do I do now?”

“…Live.”

~~~∞Ω∞~~~

Jason met us at the door.

He took exactly one look at us before bustling us into the building, securely closing the door and setting mom up on the couch with blankets and pulling a First Aid kit out from under the sink and chucking it at my head alongside orders to shower and change.

I stripped off, turned on the shower and sighed, the water washing away my stress and lingering injuries, settling the agitated crashing waves of billow clouds roiling in my head.

The hot water felt _divine._ Literally, the only thing that could be better is a proper Roman Bath. _Aaah._

Now, I hadn’t known Jason long, but by the gods did knowing he was there let me relax. Knowing he could at least hold his own against me (we really should have a rematch of Kansas… though maybe a bit less lethally intentioned…) and seeing the way his eyes flickered over my mom, to Estelle’s room, to the windows and front door… yeah, Jason would die to protect them for me. They were safe with him, he was strong and cared and could co-ordinate Piper, Paul, Grover, Mom and Estelle for assault and escape if needed and- it was such a relief to have someone I could trust was strong and loyal… I could kiss him.

Wait.

_What?_

I mean, Superman’s pretty and all but, uh. What?

I dragged a hand over my hair, pulling it away from where it was brushing my cheekbones and blew out a breath. Shower thoughts huh. A smudge of black in my periphery caught my attention; my Legion tattoo, SPQR with one year’s line of service. A brand I took on willingly, forever binding me to the Roman people, just as my beads and scars do to the Greeks.

Holding my hands out in front of me, for the first time in a long while, I took a moment to look at myself. As the years went by, I looked in the mirror less and less because of the stranger I saw staring back. The man with an eyebrow split into bits with invisible lines, with hollow cheeks and a look in his eyes that only got more fractured and shaded each time I dared to look. I liked to pretend that by avoiding mirrors I could hide from the hardened warrior I didn’t want to be _(because that’s who he was, a warrior. A soldier. A veteran. A damaged weapon with demons in his mind and ghosts in his eyes that scared me to look too deep into)._ But scars don’t lie and I’ve got scars _everywhere._ Some old and faded, scuffs and grazes from skateboarding, speckled burns from cigar ash and cuts from broken glass. Some healed to near indistinction; slightly shiny skin from first degree burns, needle-thing crisscrossed lines of cuts like the faintest of shadows against tanned flesh. The rest though… it’s not pretty to look at. Twisted, textured warping from punctures, blade and otherwise, burns and acid spatters blooming deep pink and shiny white, stark silver grey lines, cuts, furrows and gouges, deep and harrowingly permanent. Marks, speckles, flecks and lines that could poetically be called a meteor field if it weren’t so horrific.

All demigods have scars. From training, from accidents, from quests or fighting monsters, but there’s barely a square inch of unmarked skin on my body and even by demigod standards that fact is _harrowing._

Because every disfiguring mark tells a story. And none of them are happy.

A crescent of punctures on one shoulder; the hellhound at my first Capture-the-Flag, when I was first singled out, told I was different even from the people I should have belonged to for that very fact, when I first felt the weight of expectation.

A notch above my hipbone, surrounded by a halo of spidery veins; the pit scorpion’s sting. When I first tasted the bitterness of betrayal. When Luke destroyed the ‘what-could-have-been’s of our fledgling connection and left me to die alone in excruciating pain.

A burn flaring up one side; Beckendorf sacrificing himself to blow up the _Princess Andromeda._ The lesson learned: _You can’t save everyone_.

More and more and more, wrapping around me like ropes, binding me like chains of failure _-too slow, too clumsy, too weak, too dumb, too late-_ there was a tugging in my stomach, water layered itself on my skin ( _clouding the image hiding my sin_ ). I blinked and realised my breath was shaking and my hands were clenched in fists. I ripped my eyes away. I breathed.

I let go of the water and got out of the shower, willing myself dry and grabbed a towel for my waist and another to throw around my shoulders. No point subjecting everyone to ‘all this’. Plus, I don’t like my mortal spot, the point opposite my navel, being without some sort of cover, even though the Curse of Achilles is gone now…just another trauma tick for me then! Right next to my constant need to check that Riptide’s within reach and the newer itch to have a ‘Go-bag’ ready with plenty of non-perishable food and ambrosia. Just in-case I end up on the streets with no knowledge of the local weapon and supply caches ( _Hera_ ).

Padding out the bathroom, I stuck my head into the living-room (Paul and Jason cooking together… we’re having pasta tonight then… Grover’s on the couch…meditating…?) and paused outside Estelle’s room to listen for her, mom and Piper (they were talking quietly, but they sounded okay so I didn’t try to eavesdrop) then continued to my own room and shut the door with a _click._

I pulled on some jeans and a long-sleeved top and collapsed back on the bed. The ceiling was sky blue, with little flecks of white like stars (… _Bob says ‘Hello’…._ ). My room. I’d painted the walls myself, had school-books piled on the desk, clothes in the draws and knick-knacks sat on the shelf. It was mine.

But it was _not._

The work-books are useless. I can’t play at being a kid and go back to school, I can’t sit in a cramped room with strangers on all sides and focus enough to learn anything. The odd and ends I’ve got as decoration just _hurt_ because they’re mementos of better times, when the future was a golden road and I had my partner to walk it with me. And the walls, in shades of ocean blue and green that once brought me comfort, now pressed against me crowding _ininin_ making my heart pick up and my palms sweat because it’s _surrounding me on all sides, can’tbreathecan’tbreathe, someonehelpi’mDrOwNiNg._

A knock on the door. (I blinked, I swallowed, I breathed.)

“Hey, it’s uh, me. You up for some company?” Piper. I got up and replied slightly hoarsely.

“Yeah, give me a sec”

I let her in and we sat awkwardly on the bed across from each other. “Are you alright?” I asked.

She looked startled, “Yeah I’m- I actually just had a talk with your mom.” I nodded, talking to my mom always made me feel better, “What are we going to do now?” What? I must have said it aloud because she blinked and repeated herself, “Your mom said this place isn’t your territory, not really, so as a Cloud you’ll want to leave sooner rather than later. Also, I…think it would be a good idea to _get out there_ you know? Just get away from… _all this_ for a bit? It’s what my dad does when the media gets too much or something really bad happens…” she trailed off and shifted before straightening again, “So, where are we going? What are we going to do?”

I stared “I- _I don’t know._ Piper, and I have _no idea_ where to even start. I’ve never- I’ve never been without any guidelines at all; I can’t go to school, I can’t stay at a Camp, there’s no prophecy to interpret or any quests to go on…for demigod life, we’re _at peace_ and- and I _really don’t know how to live like this._ ” I cut off, breathing faster than I’d like to admit. Piper was quiet for a moment, fingers worrying her sleeves, then her kaleidoscope eyes darkened to navy and slid off to the side. She spoke, “Before Camp, I was at the Wilderness School for Juvenile Delinquents with Leo and…and Jason. Only Jason wasn’t there. He was a Mist memory. All the time we spent together, all the laughs, the stories, the dates and kisses, were _made up_ and suddenly I had a boyfriend I actually knew nothing about and who sure as hell didn’t know me. Then I get to Camp, I learn to fight and recognize gods and monsters and I hear stories of someone who is impossibly strong even among demigods but who cares so much he’s human the way most eventually forget. I’m there about a week before leaving on a quest and another three after it’s done.” Her lips thinned, “I liked life at Camp and the people there, but I didn’t _love_ them.

“Whe we were fighting Her, Frank was leading the Legion, Hazel was everywhere as support, Leo was a one-man ballistic armoury and I was trying to slow Her down, get Her to _sleep_ , but I couldn’t even do that, it wasn’t working, and I needed Jason to get close enough to even try and then…I saw you. You pushed yourself up for them, rallied them and led them and I realised then, that _you love them._ You love them so deeply it hurts but you can’t stop because that’s who you are. You rip yourself apart with caring because of course you would. They’re _yours._ You were in so much pain, but you gave them the best you could and then you saw Her and you _screamed._ You raised you blade and fought with your teeth bared and tears streaming down your face. No matter what the Fates had to say, you were going to take her down. **Forever.**

“I watched you fight with rage born of a love that defied Fate itself and I thought: _I want that._ If there are people who love so fiercely and live so brightly, then those are who I want to belong to. I want to be able to look at a people and think _I would burn the world for you_ and see that looking right back at me. So I pushed. I reached in and pushed all that I was into my voice because if it was the last thing I did I would **make Her sleep.** So I did.

“With Rain flames, I’ve got a power I didn’t before, but I’m not _strong_ in the way that matters. I don’t know you really well, but I can tell that you will always find your way no matter where you are or with who, even if you’re adrift now, you can and _will_ adapt. And I _can’t._ Not by myself, I just sit and stagnate if I don’t have a direction to go in, if I don’t know what people expect from me. 

“I asked to come along with you because I don’t really know who I am, never have, but I though if anyone could…help me find out, it would be you…”

~~~∞Ω∞~~~

His pupils were reduced to pin-pricks in storm green. That…is a sign of shock isn’t it? Panic?

“You know this life better than me, so if you need guidelines? _Make them._ You know how like I don’t _. Learn_ how to live like this, and I’ll be right there with you because I don’t want to hide away and pretend to be someone I’m not to survive, but I don’t know what else to do. Yet.”

No, that didn't work.

Maybe she should be clearer?

“I’m not asking you to lead me” ah, that was it, he started breathing again. Good. Sally would scalp me if I distressed her son, she’d said as much in between a run-down of Flames and a few Rain-tricks to start me off “Just let me walk with you, show me how to stand beside you.” I clenched my fists “I refuse to feel helpless anymore.”

His eyes finally focused on mine again. They flared ethereal violet and my lips pulled back from my teeth as cool washed through me with a prickle of deadly ice.

Yes. He got me.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOT A CLIFFHANGER!!!! *Shock*  
> I don't know if satyrs can heal people, but Grover has Pan magic buffs so he can sense when things are not as they should be...? Shhhhhh.  
> The poor awkward bean just realising boys can be pretty too~
> 
> Adieu~


End file.
